That Tongue
by Pinlicous
Summary: Lucifer is persistent to show Sam he owns him. When Dean leaves, it gives him free range. Slightly Non-Con Sammifer; slight Wincest (if you squint.)


"Hey, Sammy, you gonna be okay?"

Dean was halfway out the door when he suddenly stopped, overlooking the tiny hotel room. Sam looked up from his laptop, locking eyes with his older brother. Dean's expression was stern, something he always wore when he was trying to be serious.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he lied, lowering the laptop's screen slightly. He didn't break eye contact, trying hard to make himself believe his own words.

Dean nodded, hesitating in the doorway.

"Go," Sam prodded, the word finally pushed his brother out the door, somehow. Sam just lied back on the bed, fulling closing his laptop. He couldn't research, no with _him_ looking over at him.

Sam took a daring glance over to the corner of the room. He had felt daggers piercing his skin all day, literally and metaphorically. When he met eyes with Lucifer, he instantly regretted it. He tried to look back toward the door, nonchalantly, but it was of no use. He was there, standing right in front of him. A smug grin plastered on his face. Triumph.

"Aw, honey bun, don't look away from me," he vexed, using a poor imitation of a little girl's voice.

Sam closed his eyes tightly, wishing him away no matter how weak it made him see. But then he could feel hands on his knees. He jerked up, trying desperately to right himself enough to back away. He hadn't been able to touch him so easily before- so real. Lucifer's hands only gripped tighter to feeble attempts to breach contact.

"Leave me alone," Sam pleaded. He desperately jabbed his thumb into his palm, wishing for the medicine to liven in his system again, making this damned angel disappear.

No use.

"Uh, uh, uh, Sammy-boy."

"Don't call me that," Sam growled, anger consuming him now. He felt his face go red as his eyebrows scrunched toward each other.

He know this wasn't a good idea; he knew from the instant it began. He couldn't take it anymore, though. Sam welled up every last inch of strength he had and outstretched his arms quickly. Balling his hands up in Lucifer's shirt, he tried as hard as he could to shove him off. "Dammit, just leave me alone!"

Lucifer overpowered him easily. He pushed his back down and straddled him. Sam was scared now, feeling inches of his freedom dissipate before his eyes. If he could do this- be this forceful without struggling- who's to say he wasn't real? What if he had just shown up as a hallucination at first, but then he went full force now? What if...

A crash of lips on his own made him yelp. He pawed at him desperately, begging some higher power to rid him of this pain. But no one came, not even Dean. And for the first time since Lucifer started showing up, Sam felt helpless. Without Dean around, he was hopeless. He was lost. Alone.

But the roll from Lucifer's hips forced air from his lungs. He gasped out a mix of something scary, but pleasurable all at the same time. He forced himself to still, tossing thoughts around in his head. He blamed it on the lack of affection. Then again, when he was soulless, apparently he had a lot of attention. Dammit.

"Shh, it's alright," He whispered into his ear, a dart of his forked tongue wetting his earlobe. Sam realized he was shaking.

"Please...," he implored with one last ditch effort to end all of this.

Then he felt his shirt buttons being popped off. He knew he wasn't getting out of this. Not ever again.

Lucifer had broken him. The last of the shattering pieces of his soul had collapsed onto the floor.

Each one made a startling snap as it's threads were forced apart from the rest of the fabric. They flew a few inches in each direction. He focused on what that had landed near his shoulder, far enough away for him to stare at it. But he was stricken from that luxury, as well, as soon as Lucifer's hands curled around his jaw, jerking his head to peer forward.

Lucifer leaned forward. He ducked his mouth into the crevasse between Sam's head and his shoulder. Two wet pressure points sent shocks into his body.

Lucifer's tongue was ravishing all over him.

His pulse point, collarbone, nipples, abs.

He had stopped forcing away the man situated above him. He let out a small whine when Lucifer stopped at the base of his jeans. He tried to swallow, consume the now apparent fact he was enjoying this.

"So," Lucifer began, nibbling on parts of his body as he made his way back up to Sam's face. "all the woman- even men- you cold be with, all turned down, for me? The devil? My dear, Sammy, I do believe you've got quite the ego." He accentuated on the words he spilled from his mouth back threading his rough fingers through Sam's hair. He pulled harm on it and Sam complied without complaint.

Lucifer enjoyed that look on him.

His tongue traveled down Sam's chest again, taking less care then before. He bit and gnawed on everything he could sink his teeth into. He chawed Sam's pants button open, tugging on them.

When he stopped again, Sam knew what he was waiting for. He wanted Sam to beg for him to continue. To win over him again. Sam contemplated waiting it out, trying to make it disappear, but for some god damn reason, he just let out another whimper. It had to be lack of attention. It had to be.

His pants were ripped off, rubbing against his skin. Red marks were left, but Sam didn't really mind. He just wanted it now.

This time, when Sam forced his hands into the fabric of Lucifer's shirt, Lucifer knew the look in his eyes. It was angry, scared, maybe. But it was lustful. And a whole lot of defeated. It made him tingle.

They were naked quickly, but not quickly enough.

He allowed Lucifer to straddle him again. Without consent, preparation, or even notice, Lucifer lined up his cock to Sam's hole and penetrated him. Sam arched into it, despite the pain, and let out a cry. His eyes were watering heavily and he felt his hole wet with something other than semen.

He didn't care.

He fucked himself into it, instead, revealing in the pain. His hands gripped the blanket tightly. It was too thin to fend of his nails, which dug bright red half moons into his palm.

"Damn, you are one sadistic bastard, aren't you, Sammy?"

Lucifer's words were incoherent to Sam. He drowned them out in the pain, trying desperately to shove the pleasure away.

Pain he could deal with. Pleasure from this?

When Lucifer came, he retracted himself from Sam. He didn't let Sam go, didn't let Sam touch himself. He just stood there, smirking.

Then, the door creaked open. Sam hadn't noticed the Impala's lights or engine, or the faint footsteps of Dean's boots. He barely heard the door open.

"Hey, you okay?" Dean's first words were simple to understand for even a small child. But at this moment, Sam couldn't comprehend a damn thing.

He noticed he was fully clothed once he sat up. He looked down at himself, noticing all the pain had vanished. Except the small sting of the half moon's on his palms.

"What the hell are you doing? Hurting yourself?" Dean's words weren't angry. They were coated in a sharp tone, yes, but they were tender as he examined his brother's self-inflicted wounds.

Dean sighed and got the small first-aid kit they carried around. Just because.


End file.
